Weight of the Wings
by Ophelia Calhallow
Summary: Harry's POV. Sequel to 'Fallen Angel', but prequel to 'Broken Wings'. More ANGST! And who says I can't have a Harry POV just because he's dead?


Weight of the Wings Catch me as I fall  
  
say you're here and it's all over now  
  
speaking to the atmosphere  
  
no one's here and I fall into myself  
  
this truth drives me into madness  
  
I know I can stop the pain if I will it all away  
  
don't turn away  
  
don't give in to the pain  
  
don't try to hide  
  
though they're screaming your name  
  
don't close your eyes  
  
God knows what lies behind them  
  
don't turn out the light  
  
never sleep never die  
  
I'm frightened by what I see  
  
but somehow I know that there's much more to come  
  
immobilized by my fear  
  
and soon to be blinded by tears  
  
I can stop the pain if I will it all away  
  
don't turn away  
  
don't give in to the pain  
  
don't try to hide  
  
though they're screaming your name  
  
don't close your eyes  
  
God knows what lies behind them  
  
don't turn out the light  
  
never sleep never die  
  
fallen angels at my feet  
  
whispered voices at my ear  
  
death before my eyes  
  
lying next to me I fear  
  
she beckons me shall I give in  
  
upon my end shall I begin  
  
forsaking all I've fallen for I rise to meet the end WHISPER, by Evanescence  
  
He opens his eyes, and stares through me. My heart aches because he can't see me, doesn't know that I'm here. I love him so much, and the last thing he said to me was 'I can choose to stop loving you, Harry. I don't have to feel this pain.'  
  
Did he stop loving me? Is it even possible for someone to just turn off their feelings as easily as a tap? Well, according to Voldemort and his snivelling crew. Oh, sorry, am I not supposed to say that? I see, just because I turned to the dark side and helped slaughter my best friend and tried to kill everyone I ever cared about-  
  
Really, I shouldn't be saying all this. I'm technically an angel, and we're supposed to discuss higher things. Isn't love higher than anything? Apparently not. Yes, I'm an angel. Ironic, when you think about it. In life, I was an angel, but then I fell, and now I'm dead I'm back to being an angel.  
  
As Draco would say, you know when someone Up There is pissing themselves laughing at you. Typical of Draco, that. Funny how all my thoughts lead back to Draco. But how could I think about anything else? I'm bound to stay by his side, and I don't even know why.  
  
Luna Lovegood, in her dreams, tells me that it is Draco who is keeping me here. She never remembers me in the morning, of course, but it's nice to talk to someone real. Nice is such a stupid word. And once again, I'm back to Draco.  
  
Oh, I know, why don't I think about Ron for a change? Yes, instead of thinking about the lover I abandoned for the dark side, let's talk about the friend my followers murdered a year after my death. What a cheerful subject.  
  
They had all divided up into neat little couples after the war. Hermione and Ron, Ginny and Draco, Luna and the world. But just as they were all set to live happily after, my past caught up with them and Ron was killed.  
  
I hate myself. I hate my angelic, useless self. I have all the power of the world at my disposal, but I can't use it, and no one will tell me why. I just want to be with Draco, is that so evil?  
  
You can't hurt me anymore, I'm beyond you. I look up and meet a pair of grey blue eyes, like winter skies just after dawn. From across the long years, Draco is looking straight at me. I just want to know why. His face is expressionless. I take a deep breath.  
  
"I know what you thought. The power, the glory, the money- well, it was none of that. The truth is, the weight was just too much, the weight of the wings. Everyone thought I was this angelic person who would save them all, and it just got too much, and you were there, and even though you helped." How did I help?  
  
"You were the one thing which spoiled my image," I whisper. The young Draco grins joylessly. And you spoiled my image of the perfect Death Eater, evil to the core. Only then it wasn't me who murdered people, was it? He looks down at his sleeping older self, and I turn my head away. When I look back, he is gone.  
  
I sigh and sit down in a heap on the end of Draco's bed, making no impression upon anything. I fold my wings and lean my head against the bedpost.  
  
"Harry." there is a murmur from the bed. I leap up and stare at Draco's lined face. "Draco? Can you hear me?" I say. He doesn't answer. "I wish I was with you." he says again before going quiet. I laugh bitterly and sit back down, but this time I leave my wings out. Looking at them, I feel in my heart a twisting worm of hatred.  
  
I swapped the wings of a hero for the wings of an angel.  
  
If only I could cut my wings off. 


End file.
